The Battle With the Heart Isn't Easily Won
by Catherine Chen
Summary: An arranged marriage between two imposing forces with more depth and old wounds than any of the other gods realize. Will they learn to appreciate the qualities in each other that could heal them? A romance.
1. I Will Never Love You

This is the story in my head that is clamoring to be written...and so I shall write it. I know there are other stories that need my attention but I do hope you'll make a place for this one as well. A synopsis after chapter one.

As always, PLEASE REVIEW!!!

Much love, Cat

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"I will never love you," she said coldly as he carried her down the hall. He said nothing. Incensed, she glared up at his unshaken countenance. Imagine her, the great beauty of the goddesses married off to this horrid, lumbering beast. _Well, lumbering wasn't really fair._ He spent a good deal of his time hunched over to better hear what was being said because of his great height. In fact, he moved quite gracefully for a man of his size. But then she wasn't in the mood to be fair or charitable. There would be time for that in the next few hundred years. If, and it was a big if, she decided to forgive him by then. "Did you hear me? I said..."

He barely glanced down at her before bending slightly to undo the latch on the door and carry her into the bedroom. "I heard," he replied.

His apparent commitment to never uttering more than a few words to her would have been comical if it weren't so damn aggravating. She thought that the recitation of their vows had been the most she had heard him speak in the couple thousand years she'd known him. Gently, he lowered her to the floor, setting her lightly on her feet. She pushed roughly at his chest when he tried to steady her as she tripped over the long fabric of her gown. Consequentially, she almost toppled over and pulled him down over her. Too angry to think straight, she had forgotten their wrists were still linked. 'Untie us!" she demanded.

Silently, he obeyed, lifting his wrist and thereby hers, and beginning to slip the interwoven ribbons though each other. Everyone at the wedding had marveled over the intricacy and delicacy of the gold alloy fashioned in an elaborate pattern to symbolize the unbreakable bond between them. She had been too busy wondering how she would survive being married to an elm tree. What right had he to be so solid anyway? He felt like a wall of granite reinforced with steel beams. The least the man could do was shift a little when she threw her entire weight against him. But no, she had married a mountain.

By the time she had finished her internal ranting he had undone the ties and was laying the fabric-like mesh over the back of a chair. She cleared her throat. "Now if you'll just go I can..." she halted as she felt him undo the ties of her dress and slide it off her shoulders with the same care he had used in freeing their wrists. "What do you think you're...mmhmn...numph...urgh..." Her protests were stifled when he dropped a fairly chaste cotton nightgown over her head. Almost entirely shapeless on its own, like all garments, it couldn't help but mold to her curves, but the neckline that stopped at the base of her throat and the little puff sleeves were not intended to inspire lascivious thoughts. It was the kind of dress a girl would wear.

Distracted by the dress, she failed to realize he'd bent down with the intention of lifting her into his arms again. That was, until she felt his hand on the back of her thigh, preparing to scoop her up. She swatted his hands away. "I am not ready for bed yet. You may go to your own room now," she said sharply, as if ordering about a servant.

"I intend on sleeping with my wife," he said so matter-of-factly that it was as if he were discussing something that had already happened.

Ignoring her squirming, he picked her up and lay her down on the bed, tucking the covers around her. Crossing to the opposite side, he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes. Grudgingly she admitted that she found herself impressed by the slabs of muscle exposed when he finally pulled his tunic over his head. She hadn't believed that all that bulk was muscle...but it was. No wonder he was so immovable. Despite herself, her fingers itched to touch his skin, to see if it was as smooth as the polished marble it appeared to be.

She felt no reason to avert her eyes as he finished undressing, never having made her past affairs and experience a secret and enjoying the male form. At least now she knew he was well-proportioned. Laying back, she tensed herself for the feel of his rough, callused hands, prepared to give him proper set-down if he dared to touch her, but he just slid under the covers and turned on his side, facing away from her.

"What are you doing?" she snapped at him.

"Sleeping with my wife," he replied. She could have almost sworn she heard a smile in his voice at the end of that sentence. But that was impossible. Mountains didn't have a sense of humor. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a smirk. She had never before slept, and just slept, with a man. Trust the Fates to make the first and only one her husband.

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Well, I hope you enjoyed that as much as I enjoyed thinking it up and writing it down. This will be the newest story to join my canon. I will reveal in the next chapter more about the characters, but I wanted to write this intro first.

Please tell me what you thought of it.

Much love, Cat


	2. A Preoccupation With the Physical

If you haven't read one of my stories before, you should know I love references. The couples usually aren't canon but the names, references to other myths, and random tidbits I throw in have a solid basis. This chapter I'm throwing in a "briki" or μπρίκι, otherwise known as an "ibrik" or "cezve" used to make Greek or Turkish coffee respectively. This is probably an anachronistic detail but I haven't been able to find out any information about the date they started being used so I'm sticking with it. Furthermore, while I'm aware that nectar and ambrosia are the "food of the gods" it's my choice to make that something exclusive to them that they're nevertheless not restricted to. In other words, mortals can't have it but that doesn't mean the gods can't have anything else but it.

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Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. I'm happy to have found so many people willing to give this pairing of Aphrodite and Hephaestus a shot.

As always, PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat

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She awoke, blinking repeatedly against the bright mid-morning sun. Excluding her own presence the bed was empty. She felt oddly bereft. Her sleep had passed peacefully enough but she didn't feel rested. He hadn't touched her. Her hands were resting, one on top of the other, curved over her ribcage. Her right index finger was tapping an agitated beat against her left hand. "I certainly didn't want him to touch me." The words rang hollow. Yet they were true. Everything about the damn man was incomprehensible from his behavior to his inscrutable countenance.

In an indefinable mood of her own, she began dressing to go downstairs. She riffled through dresses and tunics in different shades of pink and red clicking her tongue as she rejected item after item. It was frustrating but she realized that none of the garments were the kind of thing she wanted to wear in front of him. It would be a waste of her magenta silk to parade it before him. Eventually, she settled on the plain brown frock she sometimes wore when going out among the mortals. She tied a lighter brown silk band about her waist. Making a mental note to order more dresses in the colors she normally disdained because they were unflattering, she began brushing her long, blond hair. She wasn't quite sure what possessed her other than the fact that she had no interest in trying to capture her husband's attention. Sweeping her hair up experimentally, she decided to tuck it into one of those severe buns that Hera favored. She barely glanced at her overall appearance in the tall mirror propped beside the dresser before leaving the room without applying makeup for the first time in centuries.

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Hephaestus rose to greet her as she walked into the dining room. He was staring at her oddly. It unnerved her and made her self-conscious but she tamped down those feelings and sat down in the chair he pulled out for her beside him. It dawned on her as she settled herself and let him pour her a drink that she could protest, could have moved farther down the table, away from him. The sunlight streaming in through the windows and the smell of fresh-baked bread lifted her spirits. It wouldn't do any good to fight with her first thing in the morning on such a beautiful day. Might as well wait until she'd had a nice, strong cup of coffee. She continued to ignore his gaze as she reveled in the good, Greek coffee brewed in her briki that she'd brought to his kitchen.

He watched as she brought the cup up to her face and inhaled the steam. It struck him how beautiful she was. It was easy to disregard her as insubstantial and superficial when her look seemed so deliberately crafted. From the perfect curls falling in artful disarray, to the prettily painted face and revealing gowns, everything about her had seemed false. The woman that sat before him now was refreshingly different. Her hair gleamed rich and golden in the sunlight and the style brought the fine bones of her face. He had never noticed how elegant and graceful the length of her neck was. Her looks were very dignified and aristocratic when she wasn't shrinking and simpering and trying to appear helpless. A sweet, natural pink flush tinted her cheeks and without the finish of powder her skin appeared impossibly smooth. Drawing his eyes down to her slim waist was an eminently touchable-looking band of fawn-colored fabric that brought to mind the crinkle of leaves underfoot on a honey-tinted autumn day. Her waist was small but not small enough that he could span the distance with his hands which always made him feel too large like he was about to break something delicate. That expression of pure delight as she breathed in the aroma of the coffee… He turned away quickly.

_Mmm._ It was like being enveloped in a good, strong hug. Aphrodite took a few sips before starting to place food on her plate. Usually she would demur, pretend to have a small appetite, and avoid people seeing her eat as often as possible. But with him there was no need to pretend that she didn't enjoy food. She grasped a ripe, red strawberry by the stem and bit into it, relishing the burst of sweet, tart flavor that hit her tongue.

Hephaestus realized he had been staring only after she had consumed three strawberries, his gaze locked on the sight of her lips puckering around the fruit. He put a piece of bread into his mouth and concentrated on chewing.

They ate in silence, giving Aphrodite a chance to think about her plans for the day. She supposed that a couple in love who had so recently married would want to spend all of their time together. Not being part of such a pairing, she decided to go out and purchase new bedding. She tried to decide between plain white sheets or colored ones when she got distracted.

He was just peeling a hard-boiled egg. For some reason though, the action had her eyes transfixed on his hands. She had never noticed how graceful they were. His hands were large like the rest of him but his long, tapered fingers were gentle and careful. They were callused but skillful, the hands of a craftsman. Her imagination wandered to how those hands would feel caressing her skin and she burned her tongue taking another sip of coffee before waiting for it to cool.

She yelped and cursed, earning her only a raised eyebrow from her new husband. She wondered what it would take to shake his composure… Startled by the direction of her thoughts, she concentrated on enjoying the rest of her meal. They ate the typical, light Greek breakfast fare but the ingredients were good and she was determined to enjoy it. She picked up an olive and almost defiantly popped it into her mouth. She licked the residue of brine off her fingers, pursuing her lips slightly at the saltiness.

_Really, he was starting to develop an obsession with her lips. _They looked riper and more luscious than the strawberries. He wanted to taste them.

_She had to stop staring at him like this._ His teeth were so straight and white. He would have a devastating smile if he had a sense of humor.

"I have a lot of work to do. I shall see you at dinner," he said, surprising both her and himself by dropping a gentle kiss on her cheek before exiting the room.

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Hope you liked it.

PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat


	3. A Married Man

I am trying to write Gregory Peck, Hugh Jackman, Marc Kudisch, and some other dashing, imposing, reserved, intelligent, mocking, complex men. Do you know how hard it is to write Gregory Peck, Hugh Jackman, and Marc Kudisch? Very. Sometimes the romance is the easy part. It's the fun part. The work is making them real characters outside of the romance, outside of each other. Hopefully you'll like what I've put together with the help of all of my betas.

Thank you, **Bards of Bedlam** (for putting up with my insanity with admirable patience at all hours), **daymarket** (for getting me out of my rut and pointing me back in the right direction), **arealfishoutofwater **(for trying to help me write a solid male character), **coconut994777** (for helping to point out areas of confusion and encouraging me to really bring out the internal conflict and for inspiring me to come up with the driving plot of the story), and **Violetta Caine **(for your help in catching mistakes and your brilliant suggestions).

As always,

PLEASE REVIEW!  
Much love, Cat

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Being a married man didn't feel at all different from being a single bachelor, he decided as he heated a bar of steel in the forge. Had it been a love match he supposed things might be different, but not greatly. As things currently stood, the only change had been in her. Instead of treating him with indifference, he was subjected to her barely suppressed animosity. He supposed it should bother him to have his new permanent boarder view him with such distrust and unwarranted detestation but oddly enough, it just amused him.

He had recited meaningless words. She had recited meaningless words. A group of uninterested gods and demigods had looked on, and now she was living in his house. A house big enough for them to occupy different wings and never see each other, though for now he'd decided that they should try to have meals together and sleep beside one another and at least pretend to get along amicably. He wasn't about to put up with an eternity of temper tantrums and petty arguments.

Honestly, he didn't know why she was so upset. Her only concerns seemed to be clothes and aesthetics and romantic entanglements. He was perfectly willing to indulge her whims as far as the superficial went, though he rather liked the masculine décor of his home and drew the line at her decking out every room in gaudy pinks and reds. As for other relationships, he wasn't about to curtail her pursuit of them when he wasn't about to stop pursuing his own.

He _had_ found her attractive for the first time in their acquaintance when she came into the breakfast room this morning. But he wasn't an idiot. He knew what her appearance meant. It was another reminder, not that he needed one, that despite her mellower demeanor she wasn't any more pleased with their circumstance or her newly appointed spouse than she was yesterday. And he wasn't about to go where he wasn't wanted.

He felt a sense of calm come over him as he gripped the steel weight in his hands, the heavy load light to his capable musculature but still comfortingly solid. The blast of the furnace would have singed any other being but to him it was as refreshing as a cool, clean ocean breeze. It restored his equilibrium. This was where he felt at peace; suspended from the world, in it, but not of it. Until the first time he walked into his foster father's workshop, he had never believed that he could ever feel like he belonged to a place. Miraculously, that feeling renewed itself each time he entered a smithy and began molding the molten metal.

The only sounds in the room were the dull roar of the forge, the sound of his own breathing, and the even tempo of the hammer as it struck against the side of the metal with a sharp clink, flattening it out into a tapered blade.

This feeling didn't come when he was amongst them. _Them_. Now that he proved useful, the other gods were willing to accept him to their ranks. Now that he had learned to serve a purpose they'd plucked him from the fear and obscurity he'd been banished to and placed him in a little corner of their shining world. He thought back to when they'd first contacted him in his little workshop on Earth, the fifth he had owned after moving about every few years to avoid suspicion. He'd had to do so because as he was immortal, he had stopped aging and well, didn't like the idea of being run out of town with hoes and mallets crafted by his own hands. At first he'd felt relieved that there was an explanation for the things he'd never understood, his unusually tall height and large build, his ability to heal quickly, his unnatural strength, among other mysteries. Then, as he'd learned the story of his own past that relief had turned to resentment and eventually shuttered indifference.

He pounded his fist a few times on the table he flattened the blades against and sighed, pushing himself up out of his chair. With his mind full of all these conflicting thoughts and barely leashed tension there was no way he was going to be able to work. He knew how he behaved when he was in one of these foul moods. The last time he'd been this distracted he'd slammed the hammer down so hard it had broken through the metal and split the blade he was fashioning in half. This was why he didn't get involved with them. Even with the distance they were each putting between themselves, her presence was making too many buried feelings rise to the surface. He sat back down and cracked his knuckles, shaking his head as if to try and force these nuisances out of his mind. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he rose again. He needed to take a walk.

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Did you like it? Let me know, darlings.

PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat


	4. Sacred Devotion

OK. I know. _Finally_ a new chapter. This chapter is mostly about establishing some background so we can have fun with these two later. I know it's been a long wait but I've been very busy and it's hella hard trying to find betas sometimes.

Thanks to my new ones, Katarina Krahe and xxxTrojan-Princessxxx.

**As always,**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Much love, Cat**

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She usually avoided long walks on Earth, not wanting to spend too much time mixing with mortals or strengthening the naturally athletic limbs that she worked to keep looking frail and slim in a proper delicate, feminine manner. Today, though, she had snapped herself to just outside the village where the sheep were grazing along the hillside. She took a deep breath. The air entering her lungs felt cleaner, sweeter, fresher. It had only been a day but already she was feeling trapped by her new situation, confined into a space where she didn't belong, even the air in the house choking her with its unfamiliarity. She wanted to disappear for a while, to not have to be who she was, what she was, to not have to fulfill any duties. As she walked down the path to the market she gathered up some flowers with the intention of leaving them at her temple before proceeding on and purchasing sheets for the bed.

As she passed by the columns flanking the entrance of her temple she smiled. Of the many temples to Aphrodite this one was one of her favorites. She'd had a hand in its design through a bit of deviousness and the appearance of a few sketches from time to time when the hints she'd given through oracles hadn't been clear enough. She loved the clean, white marble and the abundance of flowers and burning herbs and essential oils. There was none of that oppressive, hallucination-inducing smoke in her house of worship.

Walking by the petitioners she couldn't help but hear their prayers and wondering if all mortals were so tiresomely earnest. As gods, they'd thought it wise and yes, ultimately amusing, to fill the mortals heads with fantasies about romantic love and feelings but this was simply embarrassing. If she wanted to hear all of this nonsense, she wouldn't bother filtering it all through her handmaidens first.

"Oh, beauteous Aphrodite, give me his heart. Entrust it to my care and I would cherish it always, certainly more than that silly creature he is always mooning over. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I spend my time thinking about him almost constantly. Grant me respite from my anguish and let me love him."

"Oh goddess of earthly love and passion divine, I find that my lust knows no bounds for a most inappropriate subject. She is the sister of the boy I tutor and thus her father is my employer. She is engaged to be married. Worst of all, she is far too good and delicate for my attentions. If only you could see her, goddess. She is too good even for this world. Perhaps you might take her up with you to your palace in the clouds to serve as your handmaiden. But no, even the torment of knowing she will never be mine is worth the privilege of being able to see her every day. If you cannot find a way to grant me my heart's desire, please cool my passions so I may sit in her presence without disgracing myself."

_It was all she could do to stifle a groan._ Day in and day out, she had mortals plaguing her with the same such petty concerns…pleas for beauty to attract a mater, for the affections of some oblivious paramour. When would they all realize that there was nothing more to aspire to than the immediate? Their time on earth should be spent gratifying their needs while they could and not aspiring towards some imagined ideal. Love was about lust and passion and raw carnality, not fluffy tender feelings of eternal devotion. The foolish little twits were always confusing friendship and companionship for the sensuality that was actual love. They were complicating something straightforward with messy diversions, thus leading to disappointment and more anguished complaints to her. "Idiots. Love is nothing but a load of…," she muttered under her breath.

"How dare you blaspheme on this sacred ground!"

Aphrodite turned. The reprimand had come from a priestess standing behind her, glaring at her from within the folds of her cloak and veil. How odd that such a sharp voice had come from such a young, unlined face. She wondered why the young woman had chosen to be a priestess when she could have traded her beauty in for a more comfortable life was curious.

"And what have you to say about it?" Aphrodite asked, genuinely curious. "You cannot tell me that you honestly believe that drivel about love and…"

"Drivel!" the priestess attempted to scold without raising her voice. "You must know nothing of the world to say such a thing. The doctrine of Aphrodite, of love and beauty, is woven into the very fabric of the universe, from the…"

Aphrodite held up a hand, something in the imperious gesture enough to strike the priestess silent. "As enlightening as I'm sure your lecture would prove, I have somewhere to be. If you'll excuse me," she murmured, dropping her flowers on the altar and sweeping out of the temple.

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"Final price."

The merchant stared up into the shadow-hidden face of the stranger, only discerning two dark brown eyes which flashed out in stubborn resistance. He sighed. "Alright. You win as always," he conceded, handing over the coins.

Since the wares they had been bargaining over were already spread out on the table, the stranger merely nodded in dismissal, adjusted the hood of his cloak and walked off.

The merchant did not protest this apparent rudeness, used to such behavior and unwilling to risk offending the man who brought works of such beautiful craftsmanship to him and a few select other merchants which were always in demand and kept their coffers filled.

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Hephaestus waited until he was outside the boundaries of the main city and had cleared the rolling hills that led up to his destination before he removed his hood. He had once loved it here, loved the fresh, clean air and the small flowers dotting the hillside and the feeling of almost belonging but that had been years ago. This place no longer felt like home. "Ilithyia!" he called out once he reached the small house he had been making his way towards.

A pretty young woman came out to greet him. "My mother is inside. She says that even you can wait while she takes her bread out of the oven since she bakes it for you anyway." The girl blushed but Hephaestus took no offense.

He followed her inside the house to the kitchen, where a voice was humming sweetly as it bustled around the room. "Oh, dear. I look a fright. Larisa, why did you bring him in here when I haven't had a chance to even dust the flour off of my dress?" she teased.

"I…I'm sorry, mother," the girl said with another blush.

She was a nervous little thing, Hephaestus thought. She couldn't have been less than twenty years of age but the way she blushed and shuffled it was a wonder how she ever got along in the world.

"Oh. Look what I've gone and done. I was only teasing, sweetheart," Ilithyia said patting her daughter on the arm before wiping her hands on her apron and finally facing Hephaestus.

"Drat."

He smiled indulgently as he sat down at a table. "What?"

"Same as always. It truly isn't fair. You know I found a gray hair this morning and there you are looking the same as you did when I was five years old," she said grumpily.

"You look fine," he responded. "Stop fishing for compliments for you know very well I don't know how to pay them. Ah, speaking of payment..." he said reaching into his cloak for a purse. "This should cover the expenses for this month," said Hephaestus as he dropped a pouch full of coins onto the table.

Ilithyia came over and pulled the string, letting the coins spill out of the table. "This should cover the expenses for a year! You're too generous with us. It's no trouble to take care of the grave and my daughter and I don't need that much to live on."

"What do I need the money for?" he asked. She knew who he was, obviously, for her first memory of him was when he had come to the house to visit her own mother when she was five years old and he looked exactly as he did at this moment. When she was a bit older her mother had explained to her the great honor that had been bestowed upon them by a god entrusting them with the duty of caring for the gravesite of some unknown woman and the importance of keeping both their task and his identity secret. Of course, this had been years after he had kindly explained it all himself to a precocious seven-year-old who had gotten tired of waiting for answers. "I already agreed to donate half the money I get from selling things in the market to the local temple."

"It's still too much," Ilithyia protested. "But thank you," she said dropping a kiss on his forehead.

"Don't. It's too strange to have you mothering me when I know how much older than you I am," he said.

She huffed. "So now you think of me as a mother?"

He smiled. "I told you to stop fishing for compliments."

"Would you like to visit the grave today? I just had Larisa set out a fresh batch of flowers this morning."

"No," he said. "No, I think I should be getting home."

Ilithyia knew enough not to press him or ask for explanations. He wasn't the type who expected or wanted such attentions. "Here, don't forget this," she urged, pushing a basket of bread into his arms and waving goodbye as he began to walk back down the hill.

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This isn't one of my amazing cliffhangers but I thought it would be better to just post the chapter. I hope you like it.

PLEASE REVIEW!  
Much love, Cat


	5. An Acquaintance

I had to keep rewriting this chapter. It just didn't feel right. Then, I got upset and well, it came to me. What should I do? Mirror the characters. It's so obvious. Anyway, sorry for the wait, darlings. I'm starting classes again soon but I'll try to get out as many updates as possible over the summer. Please vote in the poll.

And as always, PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat

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Thanks to my new beta, Nuit Songeur for sticking with me through all of my nitpicky nonsense. Not everyone can do it so I'm happy to have found her.

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She was just so tense, so full of anger. Her chest felt tight, like it was about to implode and crush her heart. From the moment of her conception she had been unique, separated from the traditional lineage of the gods. Her responsibilities had placed them further outside their circle, relegated as she was to duties that many found trivial and only good for causing problems. That was fine with her. She wasn't interested in negotiating battle plans or being part of tribunals to decide the fate of wayward demigods. She didn't need the respect of authorities who were so easily caught up in philandering and petty jealousies. She saw all their flaws, knew all their indiscretions, and felt no impulse to grant them her admiration.

Aphrodite took a deep breath, which only served to contract her chest further, her frustration balling up in a center of pain in her rib cage. It was just…times like this. Moments when her anger had no real outlet…when there was no one to talk to and no one to rail at…no one to commiserate and comfort…no one to react if she broke things or shouted at the top of her lungs…at least no one who would understand _why_ she was unleashing her anger.

"Miss?" a voice prompted. "Miss?"

She blinked, realizing she probably looked like a crazy person simply standing there holding a plate in her hand and taking deep breaths. She gently set it back down on the table and shook her head when the ceramics merchant offered to wrap it up for her.

Walking along, she wondered just where she was going. Did it really matter? With all of eternity stretching before her she could spend minutes or decades wandering through the market, assuming it was still there, and wouldn't make a difference. What did it matter what she did? How much of an effect would it really have? She felt…purposeless. Her current position as the goddess of love was no longer enough to fulfill her and give her pride in herself. Who really cared? Even that foolish girl in the temple didn't understand a thing about love.

"Xanthe!" a pleasant, female voice called out from the back of a tent, approaching the front table with a slow, but graceful gait.

"Hello, Diandra," Aphrodite said mustering up a smile, approaching the brightly-colored tent with a table out front decorated with various fabric and cloth wares. Somehow she had managed to find her way to her destination despite her aimless wandering. Her eyes skimmed over the dark-haired woman's radiantly glowing face. "How have you been since I last saw you?" she asked.

Diandra smiled and emerged from behind the table. "Well, I would say it's been about six months at least."

Aphrodite's eyes widened. She never would have guessed had she not seen the other woman's stomach. Her face and limbs were still slender as ever. "Diandra! But I thought…"

"Alexios finally made an offer for me…and I guess we work quickly," Diandra said irreverently, her hands smoothing over her rounded belly.

Almost unconsciously, Aphrodite gently touched Diandra's stomach. "It will be a girl."

Diandra narrowed her eyes skeptically. "How do you know?"

"I…have a talent for this sort of thing," Aphrodite said evasively. "You might call it a gift."

"Well, whether it's a boy or girl, I'll love it just as much," Diandra cooed to her stomach. Her face seemed to actually soften and gentle, becoming…maternal and warm. "Here I am going on and on…what was it you needed?"

"How did you know I needed something?" Aphrodite asked. "You're the one who called me over to discuss your sheep farmer," Aphrodite teased. "I could never be interested in a man who smelled of sheep." Suddenly tired of the discussion, she began to look over the stack of sheets spread out on the table before her friend. Silks, cotton, and wool in dyed with vibrant colors adorned seemingly every available surface of the tent. She made a move to enter the tent where the more costly fabrics were laid out.

"I didn't say he smelled of sheep exactly…," Diandra muttered. Her gaze was directed at the table but her mind seemed elsewhere. "He smells of freshly carded and washed wool…and hay…and the grass in the morning after it's rained…" She had closed her eyes and slipped into a reverie, a wistful smile curving her lips.

When she opened her eyes, she noticed Aphrodite's weary look.

Diandra laughed. "You'll understand someday, Xanthe, when you find the person you're meant to be with. It took a few years but I was willing to wait as long as I needed to for him to come around. It means a great deal to know that the person you love truly cares for you." She laughed when Aphrodite rolled her eyes. "I see you still don't feel the same."

"Diandra, do you know what love is?" Aphrodite exclaimed in frustration. She had a sudden impulse to explain how these things worked to someone and couldn't stop the flow of her words. "It's just a series of physical reactions. Those love arrows and potions that everyone talks about? All they do is trigger those responses. Your pulse quickens, you feel lightheaded, your chest tightens, your face flushes, substances are released in your body that make you feel happy…and a particular person happens to be nearby when it happens. That's all. The body is forced to undergo things first and the mind idiotically follows and considers it all love."

"Then, what about when there is no outside intervention?" Diandra enquired curiously.

"Ah, you mean 'true love'? It's the same thing, just reversed." It felt so good to finally be able to discuss the technical aspects of emotions with someone rationally. Maybe if someone took the time to listen and understand her work they would understand that it wasn't just frivolous or emotionally-motivated. She spent hours considering the permutations and possible repercussions, though lately she had found herself stuck, her brain stilted by the sense that it was all meaningless. "The mind finds companionship and transforms it into love. The mechanism works backwards and your desire to care about someone else triggers all those physical responses."

"Well, isn't that romantic?" Diandra said, laughing. "Wherever did you come up with this theory?"

"Ah…"

Diandra chuckled. "Never mind. It's just foolishness. There_ is_ such a thing as true love, Xanthe. When you find him, you'll realize that."

"What if I refuse to look for him?" Aphrodite countered.

"He'll just have to come and find you," a deep voice answered.

Aphrodite spun around, startled, her skirts catching the edge of the table and tumbling the tea set to the floor. _Just wonderful. Of course he would have to walk in and_ finally_ speak just in time to see her looking foolish._ "I'm so sorry, Diandra," she started to apologize as the other woman waved her hands away and went to fetch a rag to mop up the liquid.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" Diandra asked when she returned.

Hephaestus smiled. "Hello, madam, I am…"

"An acquaintance," Aphrodite interjected. "Diandra, I really had intended to just drop by and purchase some bedding."

"Oh, of course!" Diandra said, quickly gathering up the tea set. "How silly of me to forget. Alexios is always after me for entertaining customers when I should be trying to make a sale. What were you thinking of getting? Pink? Red?"

Hephaestus raised his eyebrows.

"Blue," Aphrodite answered.

"Here, let me show you some options," said Diandra, waving her to the stack of silks in one corner.

"An acquaintance?" Hephaestus murmured in her ear as she passed him.

She glared in an attempt to urge him to stay silent as she went to examine the cloths Diandra had laid out. In a few minutes, Diandra was wrapping up a package and presenting it to Aphrodite, objecting to the number of coins being pressed into her hand in return.

"It's too much!" she insisted.

"I've told you it doesn't matter to me," Aphrodite returned. "You're going to need it for the baby. Consider it my present to you."

"This is five times what the sheets are worth," Diandra said, though her will was weakening at the thought of being able to provide for her child.

"Go on, take it," Aphrodite said smiling. Her smile faded as her gaze fell on Hephaestus again. "We really must be going."

"You and your…acquaintance?" Diandra asked lightly.

"Yes. Good luck with everything, dear," Aphrodite replied, hustling Hephaestus out of the tent.

"Might I ask where we're going?"

Her eyes narrowed at him. If she didn't know better she would swear he was teasing her. "Home. Unless you have somewhere else to be?"

"We could just transport our way back; there's no reason to walk," he reasoned.

"I like walking," she said sullenly. "You may go whichever way you please and by whatever means but I am going to walk back to the edge of the village," she said, releasing his arm.

He simply took her hand and placed it back on his arm.

She resisted the urge to look up at him, though inwardly she was pleased that he hadn't deserted her.

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As always, PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat


	6. Settling into Intimacy

Right, can't find a beta again. _Le sigh…_ This chapter brought to you by **me**. If there are any grammatical or spelling issues, give me a break, I'm human. I think you should be able to read it fine. Yes, I get a bit testy when one-sentence reviewers call me out on my typos. But you know I love the rest of you or I wouldn't be trying my best to get out these updates. :)

My trip to Spain actually inspired a lot of this chapter. Sort of. You know how it is.

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**WRITING PLAYLIST:** Love You More by The Pierces, When Will I Be Loved by Linda Ronstadt, Wolf and I by Oh Land, I Know What I Am by Band of Skulls

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**As always,**

**PLEASE REVIEW!  
Much love, Cat**

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Walking together side by side they seemed…companionable. An uninformed observer would probably assume they were a couple. She felt surprisingly unconcerned about that possibility. Of course, a tiny part of her worried about the implication, but not enough for her to remove her hand from his arm. It wasn't as though anyone around here actually knew her, and any of the elemental gods would understand that he was her husband. And that fact no longer bothered her either. _Resigned wasn't the right word, but she was…settled. _She didn't precisely know why. She had spent so much time in the months leading up to their marriage raving and thundering that now her rage had completely vanished. It didn't feel like she was just tired of fighting. It was as though all her anger had simply been used up. She had no more animosity towards him.

Aphrodite shivered as an unusually cold breeze for the season blew down from the mountains. She had changed her outfit from the one she had been wearing that morning to lighter layers of purple gauze, very pretty but quite ineffective as a defense against the weather.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

Before she started to shake her head, he had placed his cloak around her shoulders. "Thank you," she said quietly for she was cold and his cloak was thick and further warmed by his body heat.

"We don't have to walk," he said.

She shook her head. "No, I want to walk," she said with a small smile to soften her words.

He didn't say anything in return but he continued to give her the support of his arm as they approached the edge of the village. The temple was a little farther ahead and then they would reach the mountains from which they could transport themselves directly to their home. They were a few portals in the mortal realm from which a god could travel directly to a place in the heavenly plane. Otherwise, they had to already be on Olympus to transport themselves anywhere else in Olympus as a security measure.

A strong blast of wind suddenly assaulted them and she reached up to try to adjust her hair. She cursed under her breath as strands of hairs whipped around her face preventing her from seeing. However, there was no help for it as she was forced to use both hands to hold her cloak closed or risk it being carried away by the wind.

He gently pulled her over to a nearby boulder and urged her to sit between his thighs.

"What are you…?"

"Do you have something to tie your hair with?" he asked.

"No, I didn't bring anything." It was so ridiculous she wanted to laugh. He wasn't giving her _the chance_ to argue with him. The _audacity_… _Just who had she married?_

He waited for the wind to finally die down before gathering up her hair and raking his fingers through it gently, combing out the tangles. Honestly, he was a bit surprised that she was letting him do it but most of his focus was on ignoring the softness of her hair against his skin and the… _intimacy of it_. He parted her hair quickly and efficiently and in a few moments had it braided. Holding the braid in one hand he asked her to hand him the twisted rope meant to tie the cloak closed.

She removed the rope and handed it to him. He wrapped it around the length of hair to secure it before standing and offering her his hand. She took it and allowed him to pull her up.

She felt the need to say something. "You know I won't always be this… accommodating."

He took so long to respond that she thought that he wasn't going to answer. "I know," he said quietly.

She almost thought she detected a smile in his voice. Her husband was a curious man. She was beginning to suspect that he had hidden depths but she wasn't yet convinced they were worth exploring. He distracted her from her musings when he suddenly spoke again.

"Why did you change?"

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Well, darlings, I hope you liked that. I'm going to be busy very soon but I will keep doing my best to get updates out as soon as possible.

**As always, PLEASE REVIEW!  
Much love, Cat**


	7. Half a Smile

**PLEASE GO VOTE IN THE POLL ON MY PROFILE**

**Note: **When I refer to the "Six Elders" I mean Hestia, Hera, Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, and Demeter and I count Hera, Zeus, and Demeter as Olympians. This is not an actual technical distinction in Greek mythology but just part of the way I'm establishing the canon of my world.

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**Writing Playlist:** Beautiful Girls by Boyce Avenue

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Chapter dedicated to the lovely **Nuit Songeur**, who has again signed up for my craziness. She makes me a better writer. What can I say? She's just wonderful.

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As always,

PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat

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Hephaestus steadied her when she stumbled to an awkward stop. "What?" she asked weakly, staring at him in shock. Her heart seemed to be beating too fast all of a sudden.

"Your clothes," he replied, his eyes clouded with concern. "Why did you change your clothes?" he repeated slowly.

Aphrodite removed her hand from his arm. She should say something but she was incapable of gathering the right words at just that moment. She let her arms hang at her sides for a moment as they continued to walk along, then frowned and folded them in front of her, hugging herself.

"I'm sorry to have asked such a difficult question," he said, quietly intruding into her thoughts when she didn't respond.

Aphrodite narrowed her eyes. _This time she was pretty sure he was mocking her._ She risked a glance up at him and caught a teasing light in his eyes behind the confusion over her behavior. "I… I felt like I needed to change," she answered, striving for an indifferent tone. She hadn't been able to think of a clever response and had reluctantly settled upon simple honesty.

She sensed that had been the wrong response for Hephaestus frowned and didn't reply.

Inexplicably, she felt the need to gain his approval, or at least to have him _almost _smile at her again. "Do you like the color of the sheets?"

He didn't smile but something in his voice said he wanted to. "Anything but pink is fine."

"Oh, really?" She toyed with the ties of her cloak. "…because I was thinking of getting fuchsia curtains for the bedroom."

Hephaestus tried not to wince. "Isn't that pink?"

"Oh, no," she insisted, "it's a much richer color with undertones of…" She was playing a role to the point of caricature but he seemed not to notice the way she had exaggerated her voice. _Did he really think she was as frivolous as all that?_ But of course, _all the gods did_. Why should he be any different? "Oh, but of course that would clash with the blue sheets, so I'll have to return those. That will let me get the lovely maroon bedspread I was eyeing… And we should definitely add some nice floral touches. Persephone has this lovely recipe for drying flowers with these special oils from…"

"You aren't serious?" he interjected, clearly horrified despite his attempts to act agreeable.

"No," she replied simply, smiling.

His face crumpled into a mixture of weariness and relief. It softened his features and he looked so adorable that she almost felt sorry for leading him on.

"The weather is odd today," Aphrodite commented. "It's colder than usual."

"Are you here often?"

"Are you?" she countered.

"Not as much as I used to be. I lived in the village when I thought I was a mortal."

"Oh." She felt like he had just revealed something significantly personal though he did nothing to emphasize the point. "I come and visit the temple when I need to clear my head. And I visit Diandra from time to time." As the words left her lips she wondered what had compelled her to volunteer that information.

"We aren't supposed to fraternize with mortals," Hephaestus said flatly, as if quoting one of the Six Elders. _Well, really only one of the three non-Olympian Elders, who actually managed to follow the rules for the most part_.

"Are you going to report me?" Aphrodite asked dryly.

"No." The corners of his eyes creased. _Still no smile_.

"This morning…I thought you were going to get some work done," she said as if just remembering.

"I was." He paused. "I did," he corrected himself, "but I had additional business to take care of here."

"Business?" she prompted.

"I sell some of the things I make to local merchants," he explained.

"Why?"

"Force of habit."

She laughed. She hadn't expected such a response and it caught her off guard.

One corner of his mouth lifted. _Half of a smile_. His eyes warmed and his features softened again.

Her breath hitched and he caught her as she stumbled again. _Why was she so clumsy today?_ "A rock."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I must have tripped over a rock," she reasoned.

He said nothing, but his eyes crinkled at the corners again. "We could still just transport ourselves directly to the base of Olympus," he suggested.

"I'm fine, really, I…" she trailed off. "…unless you want to…?"

He shook his head. "Whatever you wish."

"Well, I always walk to the portal in the mountains," she said. "Force of habit."

He didn't return her smile and as they continued along they walked in silence as his expression grew more and more grim. She couldn't understand what she had done to upset him, but his behavior in turn upset her. Still, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her over the boulders and crags in the face of the mountain. When her ankle turned over after she slipped on a patch of mud, he lifted her into his arms and carried her the rest of the short distance to the portal. Glancing around to make sure no one was around, he pressed his hand against the rock. A slab of rock distinguished itself from the rest of the mountain as it trembled and slowly shifted to the side, revealing a shimmering mass of smoke and light. He motioned her inside before following and passing his hand over the entrance to return the rock to its proper position. Shutting their eyes, they visualized their destination and recited the ancient words.

They barely spoke as they parted ways upon reaching their home, so it was a surprise when he banged on the door hours later.

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Hope you liked it. Sorry for the wait, I've been very busy with classes.

As always, PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat


	8. I Would Never Mock You

I realize we're seven chapters in and I haven't even finished 2 days (It's currently nighttime on the second day of their marriage). I'm trying to unravel the mystery and background of two characters whose stories aren't already right there on the page. Also, my writing is surprising even me, as it's making me confront issues I wasn't even aware I had. See, who needs therapy? I'm sorry this update took so long. College can really take a lot out of a girl.

As always, PLEASE REVIEW!  
Much love, Cat

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This chapter is dedicated to my new betas, Molly **(gem1990)** for putting up with my insane nitpicking and indulging and encouraging my crazy and Elisabeth **(McGonagall's Bola) **for going above and beyond the call of beta duties and scrutinizing my work past my own nitpicking.

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The door rattled on its hinges as the knocking continued. Aphrodite forced herself to expel the breath she didn't know she had been holding. The hand smoothing the astrology charts spread out on the bed around her shook slightly despite her best attempts to still it. Although she had quite a temper, she disliked confrontation …and …violence. It unnerved her. It made her feel…helpless. As much as she tried to talk herself out of her fear, she couldn't. After all, it was part of her creation. _Violence, fear, anger, pain. The "daughter" of Uranus._ She would have laughed at her bitter joke but her body was too tense and her throat too dry. "What is it?" she called out, admirably managing to keep the tension and anxiety in her stomach out of her voice.

The knocking abruptly stopped. "Are you alright?" a deep voice asked brusquely.

Aphrodite slowly eased off the bed and put on her slippers before moving to the door and unlocking it. _There's no reason to feel nervous_, she admonished herself. "Of course I'm alright," she answered wearily as she pulled the door open. She could smell his cologne as she took in the sight of him standing there in a fitted black tunic with his hair brushed back and his eyes conveying his irritation. The scent was something comforting yet unsettling, the smell of honeysuckle and sea air cloaking rich masculinity …the same aroma which had been clinging to her skin ever since he fixed her hair that afternoon.

Hephaestus frowned, his eyes narrowing and his mouth tensing as his gaze traveled over her slowly before his features dissolved into a look of confusion. He had been pounding on the door for over an hour and had sent a servant to call her hours before that. "Then why weren't you responding?" he countered.

Instead of answering she posed another question. "Were you worried?" Aphrodite asked. She didn't know how to respond to his concern. She'd never really experienced what it was like to have someone genuinely interested in her wellbeing. And she wasn't sure why she'd ignored his summons. _Probably simple petulance._ She was good at holding onto resentment and had been nursing her injured feelings after his abrupt change in demeanor on their walk back. There had almost been something about him before the shift, something that intrigued her…and frightened her. She didn't wish to dwell on it. Yet, his concern was eliciting that same nervous, excited energy again. She felt weightless and airy as if her restlessness could lift her off the ground. His sincere concern was...unexpected. "We _are _immortal," she reminded him.

"But not invulnerable," Hephaestus countered.

"No, not invulnerable," she agreed. "Well, then…shall we go have dinner?"

He stared at her for a moment and then offered his arm. She placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her out the door.

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He was being very…polite. She had the sense that he was trying to make amends for his earlier behavior. And yet…she still felt agitated. She had been dealing with this feeling of dissatisfaction for quite some time –long before she even knew they were going to be married. It was like a poison in the pit of her stomach, eating her up from the inside and leaving her _damaged_. She had been sensing it more and more lately. She was hardening. Her heart was becoming cynical and jaded and she was losing patience with social protocol. At this particular moment, her frustration was due to the way he answered her questions. He didn't seem as distant as he had before but she couldn't describe him as more than typically courteous either.

She was wearing one of her most flattering gowns but if he took notice, she wasn't aware of it. He was treating her the same way he had when she had worn her brown market dress. She hadn't just changed into this shift because it was clean and comfortable. She had put on the dress to feel desirable. A more than sufficient amount of male attention had assured her of her allure in it in the past, and she had needed to renew her sense of her own attractiveness and self worth. Though that, too, had become unfulfilling.

_A goddess should be _worshipped_._ _Worshipped…_ She was worshipped. Worshipped without real respect or reverence. With fear, certainly, of what she might do. But how many parishioners came to her temples and altars because they loved her? Because they were so overwhelmed with devotion that they wanted to prostrate themselves before her? They all just wanted something from her. If she acquiesced, they might leave a sacrifice. If she didn't, they would curse her under their breaths. Regardless of what it was they wanted, men were all the same when driven by desire.

She slowly lifted her spoon to her lips and sipped her soup. Finding it surprisingly delicious, she dipped her spoon in for another taste. "You have a good cook," she commented.

"Yes." Hephaestus lifted his goblet to his lips before noticing her expectant look.

Aphrodite watched as he took a drink, his lips brushing the rim of the cup. She hastily took a sip of her own wine, her nerves skittering as she watched the muscled column of his throat ripple as he swallowed. She wanted to escape to her room. His silence seemed to provoke the most dramatic reactions in her. It was highly uncomfortable. She much preferred provocation to experiencing the reaction.

"What were you doing upstairs?"' he suddenly asked.

"Hmn?"

"All the papers and scrolls spread out on the bed," he elucidated.

"Rest assured I didn't mean what I said earlier about redecorating. It was just my…" she paused. "You wouldn't be interested."

"I asked," he pointed out.

"Oh, they're just astrological sign predictions, lists of names and requests, life maps from the Fates, charts tracking the movement of the stars and planets… that sort of thing," she muttered evasively.

He tilted his head slightly to one side.

"I take my duties as a goddess seriously. I don't just pair people into couples capriciously." She began to fidget, plucking at the hem of her dress. "Stop looking at me like that. I didn't ask what you did today."

"I broke a sword."

"And for your information… you… what?" she trailed off in confusion.

"It happens sometimes."

"Oh."

It wasn't quite a smile, but his mouth kicked up at one corner, and his dark eyes seemed lighter as they held her gaze.

"I don't know why I… I suppose I'm used to mockery when I try to explain…" she paused, reaching out for her goblet.

He covered her hand with his before it could grasp the stem of the vessel. "I would never mock you," he said softly.

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Hope you liked it.

PLEASE REVIEW!  
Much love, Cat


	9. Sleepless Night

Hi darlings! Sorry it's taken so long. School has kind of been kicking my ass lately and I've been doing other types of writing in the meantime. However, I am back to set some fun for next chapter. I hope you like it.

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Chapter dedicated to my beta, Elisabeth **(McGonagall's Bola)**

**As always, PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Much love, Cat**

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_I would never mock you_. The words had been tumbling around in her head for hours. She hadn't known how to respond to his quiet overture and they had sat in silence until he changed the subject to something more innocuous and inconsequential. She had no recollection of what it was; only that she had jumped eagerly on the chance to escape the sympathy in his eyes. _Would this endlessly accumulating intimacy never cease…what?_ There was something to confront over the edge of the precipice but she couldn't force herself to look.

Hephaestus was starting to seem omnipresent, always hovering nearby even when he wasn't immediately visible. She felt herself being steadily invaded the more she tried to erect barriers to hold off his advance. Was this a natural result of marriage? Surely all couples didn't spend this much time with each other. Even now, she could hear his heavy, even breathing as he lay beside her, his face turned towards the wall.

Aphrodite had changed into one of her own nightgowns before climbing into bed yet she couldn't stop squirming. The slide of silk against her skin felt cold and unwelcome. She wrapped her arms around herself and nestled her face against the pillow, shutting her eyes tightly. Even at her most tempestuous, she had learned to clear her mind and force herself into a dreamless sleep. But tonight she couldn't. Her hands, her feet, her stomach, her arms…she couldn't pinpoint the source of the cold but it seemed impossible to warm it. She yawned and then blinked, feeling moisture on her eyelashes. Wiping it away, she turned to her side and embraced her pillow until her body finally surrendered to exhaustion.

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_I would never mock you_. If he continued to behave like a colossal idiot he deserved the repercussions. Hephaestus sighed, stonily contemplating the ceiling. He needed to create distance between them, to keep things impersonal…a marriage in name only. He did not need to braid her hair and divert her with stories of his past. She needn't bother trying to infiltrate his defenses, not when he let her in through the secret passageways.

Now, of course he didn't want every day to be a battle with her. Aphrodite was now his wife and any discord between them now might fester into an eternally postulant, raw wound. One only had to look at his parent's marriage to know that. Yet there was no reason to try and make it a love match. She didn't want his kindness or sympathy. He was sure he was making himself a fool in her eyes…giving her the impression he was another lovesick swain, but he had only been trying to make amends for that afternoon. He knew he shouldn't have walked so far today. His old injuries began to pain him and he could see in her eyes that he was destroying the accord between them. But he had been helpless to stop it. Stabbing pains in one's extremities had a way of stemming a person's ability to make small talk. So he had tried to make up for it at dinner.

But there was something else. Something about her did intrigue him. His instincts whispered temptation in his ear, insisted that if he filed away the roughness and polished away the dullness, he would find a remarkable brilliance concealed beneath. Yet outside of his workshop, he knew how blundering those instincts were. They had lied to him before.

He grasped a handful of the blankets to cover himself. Instead of fabric, he felt the softness of her skin slide under his fingertips. He held the sheets for longer than was necessary.

She was a problem he was unequipped to solve. The impulses to deconstruct her inner workings and resolve her inconsistencies were ones he was unaccustomed to repressing. They weren't the wild, volatile passions he had tamed in his youth but something more subversive and difficult to contain. If he wanted closeness and intimacy, he knew the last place he should be looking was his new wife. Yet there had been something in her eyes when she was telling him about her work…and something vitally intrinsic in him had responded. He felt adrift and unsure of himself in a way that he hadn't in years.

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She woke to a feeling of warmth and comfort so blissful she resisted the urge to move so she could stay lost in her reverie. Warm, hard planes of satin softness were pressed against her back and a reassuring anchoring weight at her waist kept her grounded and safe as she bathed in the warmth of the sea. The water washed over her like a caress, the blue of the waves deeper and truer than the waters in any other part of the world. She breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of fresh sea air and…honeysuckles…

She shot awake, her agitated scrambling disturbing a bleary-eyed Hephaestus who awakened to find her staring down at him in horror.

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Hope you liked it!

As always, PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat


	10. He Touched Me

Hello my loves! I'm back with another update. Sorry it took so long.

Sometimes I feel like I want to talk to you but I don't think anyone reads my profile. Maybe I should start a forum? I don't know.

I've been meaning to ask you how you would feel if I joined another website to write my own original work like Fictionpress or Figment or even if I started working on a manuscript. Is that completely crazy? Would any of you keep reading? Let me know in your reviews or personal messages.

I hope you enjoy this new chapter. I was going to go in a different direction but I decided to reward you with something a little more fun.

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As always, PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat

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Many thanks to my wonderful betas, McGonagall's Bola and BardsofBedlam.

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Aphrodite tried to swallow, but the saliva just pooled in her mouth. She should say something. No, _he_ should say something. Wasn't it _his_ arm wrapped around _her_? But then, why had her head been pillowed on his chest like that? And…why could she still feel the heat of his thigh pressed against hers? Oh Gaia, had she actually crept into his arms during the night? As she stared down at him, stunned into immobility, her only instinct was to sink back into the warmth of his embrace. An embrace he apparently hadn't volunteered if her other instincts were right.

_I thought you were going to keep your distance_, a voice in his head asked dryly. He wanted to tell himself to shut up, but he was right. What he was doing was wrong. His head began swimming from the contradictions, or maybe it was the sweet smell of the silken gold strands still sliding distractingly over his flesh. Whatever it was, it was too early to parse out the implications at this hour. He wanted to go back to sleep. But he wanted to pull her back into his arms first.

Hephaestus could feel his eyelids growing heavy. The light peeking through the curtains was a dim gray. _What time was it?_ It was certainly too early to be awake. He yawned.

Aphrodite watched, transfixed, as he stretched and fell back against the pillows. Or, more precisely, she watched the blankets slip over the contours of his body, teasing her by slowly exposing the tantalizing expanse of his bronzed torso before finally pooling at his waist. At which point a conflict arose. Should she enjoy the flexing muscles in his sculpted arms as he raised them over his head? Or should she instead contemplate the undulation of his contracting abdominal muscles? _A difficult choice._

Hephaestus turned to look at her bleary-eyed, unaware of the direction of her thoughts. Without considering what he was doing, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

The heat of his palm almost singed her skin. Yet instead of retreating, she found herself instinctively responding. Her body seemed to melt at his touch, the tension in her muscles easing so that she naturally curved into him.

_Her skin was so soft._ He had been about to say something but he couldn't seem to remember… How could he when his imagination had already run ahead, speculating on whether her skin was this soft everywhere? Without input from his sleep-fogged brain, he found his hand was gently cupping her jaw, softly stroking the skin at her throat with his thumb.

She shivered as his slightly callused fingers caressed the sensitive spot just under her ear, at the base of her neck. Her eyes shut at the pleasurable sensation. Then, an even more pleasurable sensation overcame her defenses as his lips touched hers, tentative and teasing, awaiting her permission. The kiss was so sweet her body ached with it. The uncertainty of the moment was novel and all the more sensual for it. She melted into him, reaching out to cup the back of his head and keep his lips pressed to hers.

They abandoned all thoughts, irresistibly susceptible to the pull of their unexpected attraction in their sleep-muddled haze. Yet it was still just a kiss. Neither one of them seemed inclined to initiate anything more.

He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her. Until his mind was clouded with the feel of her. Until the taste of her kiss was imprinted on his tongue. Until the heat started to spread as his lust began to rise.

Until she called a halt. "Stop," she panted, pulling away from him. "Hephaestus, stop!"

They stared at each other in shock, trying to catch their breaths.

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Hope you liked it.

As always, PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat


	11. The Privileges of a Husband

OK, to continue from the author note in the last chapter, I started two new **forums**. I've linked to them on my profile page. Please come and check them out and start a conversation with me. I very much enjoy discussing my stories and talking with readers.

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This chapter comes to you courtesy of my moments of craziness. Real life is getting rather irritatingly, relentlessly stressful. Somehow it helps to write about people who feel calm…to some degree. At least, more calm than I do.

And of course, I must again thank my wonderful betas, Bards of Bedlam and McGonagall's Bola. It's because I'm so in tune with them that I'm able to put out updates more quickly.

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If you would really like to make me happy **(and update faster)** go vote in my **poll**, which you can find on my profile page, and check out my **forums**.

**And as always, PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Much love, Cat**

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_Had she ever been kissed like that? _It had been warm, tender, cherishing, almost chaste compared to her past experience. And yet, _incredibly stirring_. Even minutes later, she was basking in the pleasant glow of arousal and satisfaction. _From a __**kiss**__._ Yet that was all it had taken to rouse her interest. And from there… she had been so aware of him as a lover, every breath, every moment, ever touch. It was as if his kiss had elicited a response from every atom of her body.

_She was still staring at him._ She had been staring at him since he had released her. Her clear blue eyes were inscrutable. Hephaestus continued to hold her gaze, sensing that she was searching for some kind of reassurance in his expression. Again, with no input from his rational mind, he lifted his hand and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, surprised by the way she instinctively leaned into his touch.

"Why… why did you do that?" she asked him.

Unsure of what she was referring to, he nevertheless answered honestly. "I don't know."

They held each other's gaze for a seemingly endless moment. He was dimly aware of the fact that at some point, she had laid her hand against his chest. It rose and fell with his shallow breaths.

Aphrodite broke eye contact first. His eyes were too enigmatic, his gaze too perceptive. She had the strangest feeling of engaging in a battle for self-possession sometimes. She disentangled herself from him. As if nothing had just happened between them, she turned and rolled to her side, easing off the bed and walking over to her dressing table.

Hephaestus yawned, his body intent on reminding him just how tired he was. Yet he found himself opening his eyes again to watch her brush her thick hair until it gleamed a golden honey shade in the early morning light. In many ways, he still thought like a mortal man and in the glow of the sun she seemed particularly unearthly. Her skin was so luminescent; he could almost imagine that she radiated light and that it was the sun that was illuminated by her rays. But then the sun retreated behind a cloud and she became herself once more. Still beautiful, but, within reach. He recalled the feel of her in his arms.

Aphrodite appeared to be completely at ease, not ignoring him, but not disturbed by his presence. He supposed this was one of the privileges of a husband, the opportunityto watch his wife relaxed and unguarded… though he had always felt like she was not someone who ever completely lowered her defenses. She gathered her hair in her hands, catching the strands that slipped through her fingers and secured it in a knot at the base of her neck with a ribbon. Absently, he wondered if she had a maid. He wouldn't expect her to do these things for herself; her behavior struck him as oddly self-sufficient**. **She rose from the chair, letting her head fall back and rolling her shoulders before walking over to the closet and beginning to rifle through her clothes. She had been absorbed in her task for some time before he startled her by speaking.

"That one," he unexpectedly volunteered from the bed.

Her hand stilled on a soft, gray wool dress. The cut was conservative but flattering, skimming her curves without putting them fully on display. Aphrodite undid the ties at the back of her nightgown and unselfconsciously let the fabric pool at her feet. She felt the whisper of cool air brush against her skin for just a moment before she slipped the gray dress over her head. She had already grown accustomed to the weight of his gaze. Neither obtrusive nor amorous, it had easily assimilated into her life.

He regarded her dispassionately. It was almost as if she were an actress on the stage. Yet her progression through her routine was for her own benefit. Although he watched, the performance was not intended for him.His eyes followed her movements the way they would if a work of art had suddenly come to life.

_ Ah, they were under the bed._ She had almost been about to pose the question to him when she spotted them peeking out from where she had left them last night. Aphrodite crossed the room again and knelt down to retrieve her black leather shoes before sitting on the side of the bed to put them on.

"Will you be joining me for breakfast?" she asked casually as she straightened.

"This early?"

Aphrodite smiled. She was beginning to find his reticence rather amusing.

She turned to face him. "I thought I'd explore the house today. It seems silly not to know where everything is now that I'm going to be living here. And I thought perhaps I could find a room for myself, somewhere where I can work so I don't have to spread all my papers across the bed."

"Give me an hour or two."

Aphrodite arched an eyebrow in inquiry.

"I'll give you a tour." Hephaestus fell back against the bed and shut his eyes.

Without dwelling on why the prospect pleased her she asked, "Don't you have to work today?"

Hephaestus kept his eyes shut. "I set my own hours, and there are no major projects I need to complete immediately."

"Oh," she said. "An hour and a half, then?"

He yawned, giving her an almost imperceptible nod, before rolling onto his side.

She found herself smiling moments later as she quietly shut the door to their room.

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Well, I hope you liked it. I know it's not always as fun to calm down but I want to take it slow with this romance.

As always, PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat


	12. A Marriage of the Gods

Hello, my darlings! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. I spent the summer studying. I've had a ton of reading and midterms and essays to start off the semester. I've been in a crisis about what I'm going to do after graduation if I don't get into medical school. And then I got sick. And then Hurricane Sandy hit NYC. And now I have so much to do it's actually ridiculous. But you don't need to hear all that. Suffice it to say, I haven't been in the right place to be writing romances lately. But I'm getting back to being myself. I hope you like my latest effort.

**As always, PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Much love, Cat**

**A hundred thanks to my lovely betas, Caryn and Elisabeth.**

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Oh, and if you haven't voted in the poll on my profile yet, go do that. So far Dracula, The Little Mermaid, and Jane Eyre are winning. I didn't have to read Dracula this semester so I'll have to do that first (I only got halfway through it in high school) before I can write a story. But The Little Mermaid and Jane Eyre could be a lot of fun. **KEEP VOTING.** I need a lot more input before I make my final decisions on what to write.

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And if you could, please check out two of my other stories, **"Don't Judge A Goddess By Her Cover"** and **"Wolf Wolf,"** which need a lot more love and reviews!

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He had once been given a kitten to take care of. The tiny ball of fluff had been so small that he could hold it in one hand. _He had been terrified of crushing it_. That terror had faded into irritation when the kitten blinked open its large eyes and sank its tiny teeth and claws into his hand. For some reason, as he watched Aphrodite wander around his house, he recalled that kitten.

When Zeus had commanded him to marry Aphrodite, the king of the gods had been a mixture of smiles and solemnity, calling it a great honor. One could almost be forgiven for believing the gesture represented Zeus finally truly claiming Hephaestus as his son. Almost. Hephaestus wasn't so gullible. Upon his return to Olympus, he had begun to learn the ways of the gods. He quickly stopped expecting much in the way of father or family from these single-minded, self-serving deities. His cherished dreams of a warm, loving family were those of a foolish mortal boy. He was a god now.

The denizens of Olympus assumed that because Hephaestus hadn't argued over the decree, he was thrilled at his good fortune. A god could look no higher for a wife than the ravishing embodiment of love of feminine virtue. Men and gods alike fell and worshipped at her feet. How could this degraded god who had lived so much of his life as a mortal, even adopting their manners and habits, ask for anything more in a wife? They believed any outsider would be overjoyed to join their ranks. It just showed how little they understood him.

But Hephaestus understood them. He had seen the lines crease around Zeus' brow and mouth as the king spoke about Aphrodite. As Zeus talked about the marriage, Hephaestus had caught the flicker of anxiety in his eyes. Zeus did not want to give him a boon. He wanted to give him a burden. And when he had received Hephaestus' acceptance and led Aphrodite into the room to tell her the news, Hephaestus found his deduction confirmed. Zeus wanted him to marry Aphrodite to keep her unrestrained, independent spirit contained. But as he had retreated into his mind to block out the screams of rage and wailing and pleading, Hephaestus had decided that though he would marry her, he wanted no part of the responsibility of looking after her. He wasn't interested in a real wife. If he was now a god, he would adopt their style of marriage. His heart need not be engaged.

And yet marriage to Aphrodite was proving to be quite different from what he had imagined. He found her amusing in her own way. Rather like that kitten, she was inquisitive, thoughtful, and playful. At times her demeanor unsettled him, her eyes seeming to plead for some sign of affection. But he could never be certain of anything with her. He sensed that she was ready to lash out at the slightest provocation. And her retaliation would consist of a lot more than wifely nagging. Not that he intended to provoke her. All he wanted was to be able to live with her in peace.

At least, that had beenall that he wanted. As he watched her run her hand along the spines of the books in his library, he felt some of his tension fade. This odd person who mocked Aristophane's concept of the sexes and teased him about the lack of pink in his home would not be a burden. He could find a place for thiswoman in his life.

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As Aphrodite listened to him describe the marble statues from Olympia, the strange animal pelts from the East, the wooden mermaid carvings from a small village by the sea, and the books and scrolls that seemed to represent every nation and an unfathomable wealth of knowledge –she was suddenly struck by how much she liked the sound of his voice. Masculine, warm, soothing. It had lulled her into a kind of reverie. It was a strong voice, deep, resonant –the voice of a man who could lead other men. But it was also a gentle voice –the voice of a man who understood…

She was being foolish, letting her mind wander off into fanciful nonsense. He was right in front of her and instead of talking to him, she was speculating on how his voice reflected his character. But how did one ask about the things she wanted to know? She wanted to understand this strange man who acted so differently from all the men she had ever known. She wanted him to understand her. She sensed that she had finally met a man she could have a real conversation with.

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Aphrodite waited as he pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door at the top of the staircase. "This is the last stop on our tour," he said as he pushed the door open, indifferent to the whined protest of the rarely disturbed hinges. The lighting was dim. He lit a few candles before motioning her inside.

"I thought you could use this space for your work."

Aphrodite started to think of a way to politely decline his offer when he abruptly left her side. She barely heard his footsteps as he made his way across the room. His stealth was unnerving. And yet, she found herself oddly calm. She supposed a sensible person would be at least a little nervous about being led into a dimly lit room at the top of the stairs of a large, mostly empty house. But even if he weren't her husband, she couldn't imagine being frightened of him. He didn't seem to have it in him to harm anyone.

She heard an odd rustling noise and the sound of muttered curses. And then suddenly, a curtain was being pulled apart and she could only regard the room in wonder.

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I like to live up to my title as the Queen of Cliffhangers.

PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat


	13. If Only He Had Smiled

Is it so much to ask to just have a story where I can write whatever I want without feeling obligated to make it good? I don't know what I'm saying. This chapter has just been so frustrating to write. And my life hasn't really calmed down at all. I have SO many things to do over the next few weeks. Thanks for staying with me and reviewing and inspiring me to continue. I really think that one of these days I'm just going to have to take a leap and start working on a manuscript or I'll just spend the rest of my life wondering. Anyway, I hope you like what I've decided to do for this chapter. It's been rewritten countless times but I'm finally happy with it.

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If you haven't already done so, **PLEASE GO VOTE IN THE POLL ON MY PROFILE! And check out my FORUMS which I've been updating with POSSIBLE STORY IDEAS. **

Also, please go check out **Wolf Wolf** and leave some reviews. If I can actually get some readers on board, it could mean a whole new direction for me, into fairytales and more of a young adult sensibility. Not that I don't love Greek mythology and romance. ;)

**And, as always, PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Much love, Cat**

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**REFERENCES:**

For more on the significance of **Virgo** please see the wiki page on the goddess Astraea.

**Barbarian:** Greek barbaroi (n.) meant "all that are not Greek," but especially the Medes and Persians. (Online Etymology Dictionary…see website for more context)

**DEDICATIONS AND THANKS: I have the most amazing betas in the world.**

Ryna, **LaughingTiger****, **you put in so much work and take this story as seriously as I do. You've renewed my confidence in the literary merit of this story and you make me believe that I can push myself to do better when I feel frustrated and you inspire the most brilliant ideas.

Lauren,**imawordbender**, you are like the sister of my soul. I'm thrilled to be working with you even if it takes a little work for us to get on the same page.

And thank you to**McGonagall's Bola****, ****BlackWolfRises****, ****archangelraphaelsdaughter****, **and**meli101**for all your feedback and help with editing.

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Aphrodite stepped forward slowly, her shoes clacking against the bare, wooden floor. Hephaestus had just pulled back most of the curtains covering the windows, flooding the room with light. Moving her hair out of the way, she bent slightly in order to blow out the candles. As he continued to fiddle with the latches on the windowpanes, she began to make her way around the room.

She took a deep breath as he finally managed to open one of the windows and let in some fresh air. As it circulated through the room, she felt it carrying the tension from her body. She hadn't felt particularly tense but the calm that came over her as she took in the pale blue walls and exhaled for what felt like the first time in a long time made her realize that she had been. There was nothing much to see. The attic didn't contain any furniture, not even dusty outlines of where cabinets or tables had once stood. The room felt… untouched. This was a place that could truly be hers. There were no enormous chairs that swallowed you up when you sat in them. There was no scent of cologne and no artifacts from a life lived so distant from her own. This was unconquered territory that she could claim without feeling like a barbarian who had displaced the rightful owner.

Turning to Hephaestus, she had to restrain herself from ordering him out of the room. She couldn't seem to quell the fear that the longer he stayed in the room, the more likely he would be to leave some mark of ownership. Her panic seemed to sharpen her awareness of him until she could almost imagine seeing his cologne begin to mingle with the particles of air. In her mind, she was already pinning up cerulean silk curtains and arranging furniture, making the space her own. She could hang a drying rack along the wall shaded from the sun for her herbs and spices. No true aphrodisiacs existed on earth…_ at least none that the mortals would recognize_. It would be far too dangerous. A proper tonic to encourage attraction and sexual desire required weeks of preparation, crushing herbs, chopping roots, distilling special waters. And that corner was the perfect spot for a bookshelf to store all her scrolls, and life charts, and journals of past experiments. The room had so much potential.

_If she could only start growing her roses again_… She would have enough space in here to make her oils and scents. Those damned self-important, often heavily intoxicated "oracles". It was almost more trouble than it was worth to try and relate messages through them. If only one of the other gods could create another _proper_ psychic. She was tired of having to disguise herself to interfere with the mortals' lives and guide fate in the right direction. Though she did believe she was becoming quite the actress.

Unaware of the path her thoughts had taken and the reason for her silence, Hephaestus called her over to where he stood.

As she neared, she saw that the curtains had been concealing a balcony.

"I realize it's not much to look at," he said, "But from this window you'll have a clear view of Virgo, and during the day, it overlooks the grounds."

"Only during the day?" she teased, before walking out to join him at the balustrade. She missed his slight frown at her little joke as she found herself drawn to the view below them.

Hephaestus watched as the playful gleam in her eyes was replaced by surprise and appreciation. He stayed as still as possible when she unconsciously leaned against him to get a better view of the acres of lush gardens; a multitude of colorful blooms barely hemmed in by winding stone paths; orchards of olive and fig trees, among other varieties she could not identify. She had refused to come to the house during their short betrothal and it had been dark when they arrived on their wedding night. Now, in the full glory of the mid-morning sunshine, she was seeing the gardens for the first time. He had difficulty concealing his satisfaction at her expression.

_It was almost overwhelmingly lovely. _During their long engagement, or "estrangement" as she had called it, Aphrodite had pictured his home as she remembered it when they were first building Olympus. As the oldest of the goddesses, though lacking the respect seniority might otherwise bring, she recalled this land as barren and wild. Even when the land had been cleared in preparation for Hephaestus' return to Olympus the grounds had lain fallow for years. It was a miracle that plants were not just growing, but flourishing.

Aphrodite's gaze swept across the landscape before finally coming to rest on her husband's face. Though they were now getting along, she felt his character was more impenetrable than when they had been at odds. Back then she had seen him as taciturn and dull; how wrong she had been. He was reserved in the fullest sense of the word. He held something back, something hidden and protected within himself. Even now, as she was warmed by the heat of his body, she sensed the part of himself he shielded from scrutiny.

That last thought sharply recalled her mind to the present. She plummeted back into an awareness of her body, pulling away as she became conscious of how she had been pressing against him. Drawing her arms around herself, she only looked up at him after she had retreated a respectable distance.

With her eyes directed elsewhere, she hadn't seen Hephaestus' reaction to her retreat. His expression was already shuttered when he asked her, "Well?"

Aphrodite met his gaze uncomprehendingly, her consternation building at the perceived challenge until she realized that he was asking whether or not she wanted to use the room for her work. She nodded. "Yes," she added, as if the gesture needed clarification.

He reached into his pocket and placed the key to the attic in her hand. Then he walked around her and methodically closed each of the open windows. She started at the sound of the smaller windows sliding shut and the sharp click of the larger windows hitting their frames. She wouldn't have been caught off guard if she could have brought herself to look at him while he was doing it. But she couldn't.

Before he closed the last window, Aphrodite heard the scrape of flint as Hephaestus relit the candle. The heavy thud of the curtains falling back into place served as a brief warning before the room was cloaked in darkness, save for the shaky glow of the candle.

"Thank you," she managed to say in spite of her sudden uncertainty. Without knowing why or how it had happened, she sensed that something had changed between them.

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. The flame flickered as he raised the candle to illuminate his face. "Shall we go?"

She looked at him for a long moment before following him out of the room.

_If only he had smiled. _

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God, I love that last line so much. Hope you do, too.

PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat


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